My name is Gary and I'm bi and poly. That kind of bi and poly that everyone's afraid of.
When Candace and I first got together, I told her right up front that monogamy was not an option. I could be hers alone most of the time but sometimes, like at least every three weeks to a month, I just gotta have cock. And she was sure she was okay with it... until the first time it actually happened. Then after all the crying and the sharing and the discussion, we worked out a way for me to get fucked with a live flesh-and-blood cock without setting off her abandonment issues.
So here I am, at a little after midnight, lying on my side naked on a queen-size blanket in the darkest spot on the beach, in the middle of a cluster of low palm trees and bougainvillea bushes, waiting. She's inside, choosing a guy for me, a guy who will come out here, spoon himself around my back and fuck me without my ever seeing his face. It sounds warped, I know, but now that I'm used to the idea, I'm actually finding it pretty hot. This is the third time we've done this and I have yet to regret it. She has a kind of radar for integrity, for men who will co-operate and not try to force a connection.
Here he comes. I can hear him. The blanket moves, just slightly, when he steps onto it. Then, before he touches me, he speaks (in a whisper, as part of the agreement; she doesn't want me to hear his normal voice and be able to recognize it afterward).
"Is this what you really want? Sex in the dark with no faces, no voices, nothing that might let us identify each other later?"
"Hell, yeah," I whisper back, and reach up and back. "Give me your hand." When I have it, I notice that it's a lot larger than mine. I guide it down to my cock so he can feel that I'm hard.
"All right!" He lets go. There's a few minutes of the sound of him undressing. Then his very hairy chest and belly press against my back, his crotch against my ass. He's so much taller than I am that his bearded jaw brushes against my head above my ear. One arm wraps around me. As I stroke it, feeling powerful muscles, he tucks his fingers under my ribs and lifts for a few seconds, just long enough to slide his other arm in under me. (Candace always looks for men who fulfill the stereotype of fit, hormone-drenched masculinity; in this case she's outdone herself.) Once he has both hands in front of me, he crosses his arms and begins to play with my nipples.
"Mmm." I love this. A lot of men who are gay-only are uninterested in anything other than crotches and mouths. Sex with them is like docking. I'm glad my stranger here isn't one of them. I embrace his arms, move my ass against his crotch, and just generally express my enjoyment.
After a little while, still working my nipples, he begins to nuzzle my neck and shoulder, then to lick, then to suck. He's even thoughtful about that, making sure the hickey will be in a place where a shirt will cover it. I feel him getting hard. I feel that the skin of his cock seems slightly rough. And then I feel, at the end of his hard-on, something wiggling. Something prehensile.
Until this moment, it's never occurred to me to discuss with Candace the little matter of whether the guys she finds for me should be human.
Startled, I go still. So does he, waiting for my reaction.
I reach between my legs to explore him by touch. The tip seems to be flat, like a pig's nose, and it wiggles along my palm like it's searching for an opening. Strange, but very hot. The shaft has ridges, not quite vertical, more going in a spiral around the outside, making the word "screw" a bit more literal. His balls are smaller than mine but there are four of them.
"This is gonna be fun," I whisper. I reach for the bottle of lube on the blanket in front of me.
"I've got it," he says. After a moment I feel his fingers applying the first layer. It's warm, the perfect temperature. He must have one of those new self-heating bottles. Something tiny penetrates my sphincter, an applicator, and warm gel flows in. As soon as he pulls it out, that wiggling tip is pressed against my hole, searching, stimulating, and then entering. The sensation is fantastic. He pushes in slowly, giving me the full benefit of those ridges. I gasp a little as the tip passes my sweet spot, but I don't want him to stop there; I want to feel his full length inside me. It gets all the way in and holds, caressing me internally. Then he begins to pump it, slowly at first, building gradually, so strange, so good. As I get close to coming, I lube my hand and reach for my cock and he reaches for it, too, putting his hand over mine. Our fingers interlace around my cock and we make the orgasm happen together.
As I lie there, getting my breath back, I hear him chuckle, low in his chest. He's still pumping gently and his tip is still wiggling inside me. Once I recover, he pushes all the way in and stops.
"I'm going to pull out very slowly," he said, "and I want you to let me know when it feels the best. Understand?"
I nod and he starts drawing back, that amazing tickling sensation sliding down my hole.
"There," I say as his active tip reaches the sweet spot. And then he just holds there, being incredibly generous, it seems to me, because this is less stimulation for him, even as the internal sensation gets me hard again. This time he takes my cock before I do and spends some time just fondling it, enjoying the shape and spreading lube down onto my balls.
Then, just as I'm getting ready to add my hand to his, to start moving down the home stretch, he lets go, grips both my hips and tilts them so he goes deeper into me than ever before. "Now," he whispers, low and deep, as the center third of his cock begins to swell. The part that my sphincter is gripping remains the same size, but the rest of it is growing inside me, bigger and bigger, filling me as nothing ever has before. As it presses on my sweet spot, I move, and the sensation becomes overwhelming. I realize that I'm trapped, that between the strength in his hands and the bulge in my rectum, I physically could not get away, and the realization only turns me on more. I grab a handful of blanket and stuff it in my mouth to muffle the shout of pleasure coming up out of my chest and I lose myself in the sensation.
Candace, who always listens in, told me later that the muffled shouting went on for more than half an hour. I totally believe it. I actually don't remember coming that second time. It was all so intense, the orgasm was just lost in it.
Finally, his cock shrank back down, the tip now still, and withdrew from me. We lay there, panting together, for a long moment. Then he got up and I heard clothes rustling.
"Want a Wet Wipe?" he asks, still whispering. "I've got extra."
"No, thanks. I'm not ready to move yet."
He chuckled again in response. I listened while he got dressed. Then he bent over me and whispered "You and that girlfriend of yours have a nice life, okay?" He gave my butt one last squeeze. Was that sadness I heard in his voice? Envy? I didn't call him on it.
"You, too," I replied.
"Thanks." And with that, he walked away, back toward the party.
A minute later, Candace laid down where he had been. "Hey, sweetie. How was it?" By that time I was recovered enough to roll over and return her hug.
"Really different," I croaked. My voice was hoarse from the shouting. She sat up and got water out of the picnic hamper that was tucked away under a bush. After I drank, I told her about the sex, and about the ideas I was already getting for making sex toys that would give me the same sensations he had. She hadn't noticed anything alien about him. She'd just seen a big, bearded white guy, in great shape, likely to give me a good time.
It was only later that I let myself think about that alien passing for human and wonder whether he was alone.